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“You look flushed. Do you need medical care?”
“I’m fine.” I grip my pencil tighter, wishing the earth would open up and swallow me.
When she leaves, a low gravelly voice murmurs, “Certain memories coming back to you?”
“Shut up,” I hiss.
I don’t have to look behind me to see Aiden’s smug grin.
After the two morning classes, I gather my books, wave at Kim, and head to the locker room, opting to skip lunch.
Aunt told me to buy my special food from the grocery store, but I forgot this morning.
A tall frame steps in front of me before I round the corner to the locker room. I hate how my heart flutters upon seeing him. I hate how perfect he looks in the team’s jacket and how his long legs make him appear like a model.
I hate everything about him from the slight sway in his dark hair to the kissable lips to the sharp jawline that no eighteen years old should have.
“I hate you,” I tell him with all the pent up frustration I’ve been feeling this morning.
“I think you don’t, sweetheart, but you wish you did.” He reaches for me and pinches my cheek. “You’re adorable as fuck when you’re all flushed.”
He strokes a strand of hair behind my ear. The gesture is so caring and gentle, it almost crumbles my defences.
Then I remember that he’s a sociopath and he could be doing this just so I’d let my guard down in front of him.
“Why do you never wear your hair down?” His fingers massage my skull like he’s fascinated with it.
“I just don’t like it.”
He tilts his head to the side. “Why?”
I don’t know myself.
And his caring act won’t distract me from his demonic soul.
I wiggle away from his hold. “What were you thinking about earlier?”
He goes back to stroking my hair like he can’t stop himself from doing it. “Earlier?”
“In class!”
“When Mrs Stone caught you fantasising?”
My cheeks heat and I turn my away. “That’s not true.”
“Liar.” His voice drips with a seductive drawl. “You were reliving last night, weren’t you? Was it the part where I had my tongue inside your hot, wet pussy while you screamed my name and —”
“Aiden!” I place a hand in front of his mouth. Mortification tugs at my stomach as I search around to see if anyone heard.
He removes my hand but doesn’t release it as he cocks his head to the side. “Why are you embarrassed about that?”
“Are you serious? Of course, I’d be embarrassed.”
“I fantasised about you all night, do you see me embarrassed about it?”
“You’re a different species.” I doubt he even knows what embarrassment means.
“Don’t.”
